I saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus
by JohnTheFishLovesSnuffles
Summary: Hamish can't sleep so goes downstairs to get hot milk, on christmas eve and see's something that takes sleep further from him. Hamish Watson Holmes Johnlock Parentlock slight Mystrade if you squint, look sideway, whilst wearing slash goggles


**Disclaimer- I don't own them, although if someone wants to give them to me for Christmas, I'd probably die on the spot so they'd get them back. It's the thought that counts.**

**A/N- Ok, at home we have a lifesize cardboard santa and my dad refused to put it up this year because after 15 years with us, he's legs fell off so I started singing 'I saw Daddy Killing Santa Claus', I'm sure you get the idea. This then lead in an odd train of thought to this fanfic.**

**So Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and Enjoy**

**I Saw Papa Kissing Santa Claus**

**By JohntheFish**

Hamish couldn't sleep. It was the night before Christmas and as a five year old who was experiencing Christmas for the first time with a real understanding of what it was, thanks to his school nativity, sleep alluded him and had been replaced with excitement. He decided that, seeing as he hadn't heard anything, it meant that Santa was yet to arrive, so he could probably risk going to get himself a glass of warm milk to help him find sleep.

He carefully got out of bed, as quietly as possible, in the hope he wouldn't wake his parents, because if they were up to, Santa would definitely not come. Dodging the floorboard that he knew would creak, Hamish snuck out the door, them down the stairs to the kitchen of 221B.

He poured his self some milk from the fridge then replaced the bottle in the fridge next to the severed head. Before warming it in the microwave, taking it out before it pinged, so the sound didn't wake his parents. He gulped it down in one then preceded to head back to his room, feeling more sleepy by the minute.

As he went to go through the living room to the stairs when he saw a man in a red suit, with a white beard and hair stood by the tree.

"Uh, oh." Hamish muttered under his breath.

Santa continued to lay out the presents, when Hamish saw his Papa stumble out of his room, with a large sleepy grin on his face, "Why, look who it is! Good Evening Mr Claus."

Santa spun around and smiled at Hamish's Papa, "Now, Sherlock, why aren't you in bed? You should know by now that if you're not a good boy you won't get your present will you?"

"Actually, Mr Claus, I've been _exceptional_ly good this year, I thought you'd noticed..." Hamish's Papa said slowly, placing emphasis on 'exceptionally' as he moved closer to Santa.

"Well, I think I could do with some more persuasion, you have been a bit not good in the past…" Santa replied as he wrapped his arms around Papa.

"I think I could manage a bit of persuasion…" Papa muttered before lowering his head and kissing Santa the way he should only kiss Hamish's Daddy. Hamish closed his eyes, not wanting to see.

When the kissy sounds stopped, Hamish opened his eyes and saw Papa kiss Santa one final time on the head before heading back to his bedroom, "I have to say you look rather dashing in that suit, Santa, but then red has always suited you…Hurry up, I'm getting bored."

Santa chuckled and carried on emptying his sack under the tree.

When Hamish was satisfied that Santa was suitable busy, he snuck back up to bed.

Hamish couldn't sleep, again, his head filled with his Papa kissing Santa Claus, and not Daddy.

Hamish emerged from his room very tired on Christmas morning, and not as filled with Christmas spirit as he had been until last night.

He crept into his parent's room and gently shook his Papa and Daddy awake, as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Merry Christmas Hamish! Has Santa been?" his Daddy grinned.

Hamish nodded, subdued. His Daddy gave him a concerned look, "Are you ok, little man?"

Hamish nodded silently again, and looked over to his Papa, frowning at him slightly. He tried to get his little face to say 'I know your little secret and I'm not happy', like Daddy often gave Papa, but he wasn't sure he was as successful. Papa and Daddy looked confused.

"You want to get some presents and open presents, then, little man?" Daddy asked. Hamish nodded and headed out the room to the sofa.

His parents followed a few moments later, after Hamish had heard a few whispered conversations.

Daddy came and joined him on the sofa while Papa went into the kitchen. Papa never made breakfast, despite being perfectly capable, so Hamish knew something important was about to happen.

Daddy wrapped his arms around Hamish and smiled gently, "Is there anything you want to tell me little man? You don't seem as excited as you were last night? Has something happened?"

Hamish thought for a moment then nodded, "I came down last night 'cause I couldn't sweep, Daddy, and I got some miwk…and…and I saw Papa kwissing Santa Cwaus, Daddy." Hamish sobbed, "Does this mean you'wll end up like Timmy's pawents, Daddy? I don't want you to be like Timmy's pawents, Daddy!" Hamish sobbed, crying into his Daddy's Christmas jumper.

"Oh, Hamish! It's alright! Santa's an old friend of Papa's and they were very close but now, because Santa's a very busy man, Papa only get to see Santa once a year, so they are…friendly." Daddy explained, "Do you understand, little man?"

"So if you didn't see Uncle Greg or Uncle Myc-y for a long time, you'd kiss them too." Hamish asked.

"Erm…yeah…" Daddy replied.

"Oh, ok…Can I have presents now? And breakfast?" Hamish inquired.

"Yeah, of couse." Daddy grinned, giving Hamish a squeeze before releasing him.

Hamish grinned and went running into the kitchen to hug his Papa, "Is everything better now, Hamish?" Papa asked.

"Yeah, Daddy said that you kissed Santa like he would Uncle Greg or Uncle Myc-y if he didn't see him for a long time!" Hamish cried, back to his very excitable self.

Hamish's Papa frowned, "John? Why is Hamish jabbering about you kissing Lestrade and my horrendous brother."

Daddy walked in a chuckled, before filling Sherlock in on the conversation he'd just had with their son as his son ate his breakfast that had just been handed to him by his Papa.

The Christmas that followed was perfect for the little family of 221B Baker Street.

And on New Years Day, when Uncle Greg and Uncle Myc-y came and visited, Hamish rushed over and kissed them. He hadn't seen his Uncles since last year, and now Hamish knew the etiquette for having not seen people in a long time, he was eager to show it off to his Uncles.


End file.
